


Something Old, Something New

by Sky_kiss



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I'm Going to Hell, Not really., Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, a little., kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_kiss/pseuds/Sky_kiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holed up in a seedy motel for the night, Nora suggests they try something new. Something to let Nick know just how much she appreciates him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Old, Something New

**Author's Note:**

> A very quick bit of nothing/fluff/cuteness. Because sometimes, even the old synth deserves to get a little something something out of all their sexy times.

The way he figured it, the motel hadn’t seen use for at least a few hundred years. If not more. A couple miles outside of Boston proper didn’t exactly mark the building as prime real estate. Now, it was the only thing left standing for miles. Far as he was concerned, that was the only achievement the place could claim. 

It was still standing. It was still...reasonably functional. 

Nick plucked at the bedspread. Once upon a time it might have been a floral print; now he didn’t bother to venture a guess. Some of it’s age, most of it’s dirt, all of it points towards a similar conclusion. The motel had been every cliche little joint in the book. The sort you rented by the hour instead of by the night. 

The room’s only source of lighting was provided by two well worn lamps, miraculously still functional, set on bedside tables. He shook his head, reaching up to adjust one of the lampshades, undoubtedly knocked askew by the room’s last occupants. He tried not to dwell. 

“Not exactly five star accommodations, is it?” The synth found a cigarette, lit it. There was a sign neatly set above the now non functioning television. In a delicate, swirling hand someone had written, ‘Please, no smoking.’ He wasn’t sure how it could hurt the place any. 

Nora shrugged, moving away from her vigil near the window to sit beside him. She was smiling but it struck him just how tired she looked. The start of dark circles rimmed her eyes. Her hand kept curling at her side. The fingers digging in and out, clutching at the fabric beneath them. For whatever damn reason, he didn’t like her touching it. Didn’t seem right. The woman rolled her shoulders back, stretching, “Its got a ceiling and its got a bed. You won’t hear me complaining.” 

“And here was me, thinking your taste had improved.” 

She snorted, swatting a hand back across his chest, “File me under ‘lost cause,’ Valentine.” 

“Do I strike you as the kind of synth who gives up on anything, sweetheart?” The endearment tripped off his tongue so easily nowadays. He liked the way it tasted, lingered. He liked the way it made her dip her head, teasing her lower lip between her teeth. Nora wasn’t the blushing sort, she’d let him in on that early. Most every time though, it left a hint of color flooding across her cheeks. It suited her, but he kept that to himself. “You holding up alright?” 

“Like I said. I’ve got a ceiling. I’ve got a bed. I’m dandy.” 

“That why you’re twitching?” 

Her lips twitched down in a scowl reserved especially for him. He saw too much, she’d muttered once, just this side of sulking. It made keeping secrets unlikely and surprises near impossible. You couldn’t pull one over Nick the P.I. Nora flashed him an arch look, “I’m not twitching. I’m thinking.” 

She didn’t say more for a moment. Instead, she reached out, threading her fingers through his. He liked her hands. They were slender and agile, perfect for picking locks. Charming machines. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her fingers. The fondness was back in her eyes. She smoothed her thumb across his chin. “You know how much you mean to me, right?” 

“What brought that up, sweetheart?” 

She chuckled again, “Thinking, remember. I just wanted you to know I’m...grateful.” She kissed him before he could respond. A low tactic, as far as he was concerned, and one of her favorites. It was a damn sight harder to manage the finer points of conversation with a beautiful woman pressed against you, her tongue sweeping across your lips whenever you opened your mouth to speak. He grumbled into her kiss, feeling her preen, satisfied. “I’d like to try something…” her tongue traced the shell of his ear. 

“The truth comes out. The kind words, the hotel,” he was grinning, which took a good deal of the strength away from his statement, “Just wanted to butter me up.” 

She laughed, though, and hell, he do anything if it meant hearing that sound again. 

____

 

Which was why, he supposed, they were here. Naked as you pleased on a bed that hadn’t seen much use since the apocalypse. Not sanitary, but he didn’t mention it. Her imagined scowl flooded his mind and that’s enough to still his tongue. 

And hell, he liked where he was well enough. The view was better than most any. Nora, wonderfully nude, her lips kiss swollen, chest heaving and flushed. Not a bad sight for an old bot. When he moved to touch her, satisfy her, she shifted away, scowling down at him. A bit odd. She’d never declined his offers in the past. She nipped at his chin instead, leading his hands back to neutral ground, high on her waist. 

“We’re trying something new, remember.” 

Nebulous, but he was a good enough sport to go along with it, his curiosity piqued. He let his eyes lull shut. Nora’s hands swept up his side, the tips of her blunt nails scratching, itching. Tracing the lines of his plating, the areas where his outer shell met circuitry. The woman let out a small groan, pressing her lips against his chest. The sound chased down his spine, “I love the feel of you, Nick.” 

He let out a small huff of laughter, sitting up just enough to look at her, “You say things like that and I wonder if you’re all right in the head.” Her eyes didn’t leave much room for doubt. They almost burned him, dark, something like hungry. She smiled, pushing against his chest, leading him back towards the bed. 

“Just let me do this. Please. Just. Close your eyes, alright? Trust me?” 

“Dangerous proposition, sweetheart.” He did it anyway. The hardboiled detective didn’t have much in the way of control when it came to his leading lady. A cliche, a staple of the genre, but one he couldn’t shake and didn’t care to. The synth let her have the play of his body again, let his mind wander. It wasn’t unlike a trance, conscious thought fading away. The room was gone. The world felt further away. He focused on the weight of her, straddling his thigh. The feel of her now callused hands, the ones he was so fond of. The path of her tongue…

He let out a hiss of breath, jerking involuntarily as she stroked over a patch of ‘skin.’ The feeling crashed over his sensors, itching, teasing, in a way he couldn’t quantify. Just beneath where his navel would have been. The old Nick had been sensitive there. The old Nick would have smiled lazily, linked his hands behind his head and let it all happen. The old Nick wouldn’t have felt the shock, lacked the understanding. 

Nora repeated the motion, following through with a scrape of her teeth. The jolt was stronger this time and he let out a grunt, his knee jerking upward. Her chuckle was more airy than usual and she rocked her hips against his thigh in warning. That felt good too. Familiar, right…

Her touch wandered lower, slowing, never breaking contact with him. The memories were nearer to the surface, the old, once natural, feelings bleeding into his own. Stimulating nerves he didn’t have, sending coolant pumping through his system. Hell, he was practically humming. Nora mouthed something against the planes of his hip but he couldn’t make out the words. Maybe that was best. He did love a good mystery. She nipped again, not lingering. 

“Sweetheart…” he tangled a hand in her hair, wanting to open his eyes. He wouldn’t, though, she’d asked him to keep them closed. Instead, he painted the image in his mind. The sight of her, leaning over him, a light sheen of sweat across her skin. The bow of her back, the way her breasts occasionally brushed against him. He grunted again, his free hand curling in the bedspread (that goddamn thing). The logistics were all wrong, there wasn’t a damn thing down there but...hell, the sight of her…

Her hands feathered across his hips, holding them, as she swirled her tongue across the front of him. Flat as any damn kid’s toy but…

Old Nick had known the feeling. The image in his head knew it too. A near electric jolt crashed over his sensors. His grip in her hair tightened, and he focused on the sensation, riding it out. That was what she wanted. For him to feel this, her. He focussed on the play of her tongue, the press of her lips, and it was easy, so damn easy, to imagine it as it was. He didn’t breathe, but let out a ragged gasp of air. 

Slick, hot, her sounds more than a little obscene on the still air. His dame let out a soft cry, surrendering to her need just the same. Rocking her hips against his leg, touching him, needing him. Her grip tightened but she didn’t let up.

It was too much. The hand in her hair tightened then fell away; the image behind his eyes was gone. Explode, that was it. He was an old bot and his circuits couldn’t take that kind of thing. Positive feedback, a metric goddamn ton of it, had fried his systems. Slowly, though, everything came back. Aware first of Nora tracing idle patterns up his sides, then the weight of her (half reclined across his chest), then her face. Content. That was the expression. She was smiling again, the same hint of color in her cheeks. 

She feathered the tip of one finger over the rise of his cheek, “I wasn’t sure that would work but. Seems like it did?” A nervous energy followed her words. 

Nick wrapped his good arm around her, shaking his head, “I’d say so. Some warning might have been nice.” 

“Wouldn’t have been a surprise.” 

No one surprised Nick the P.I. The thought flittered across his mind again and he nearly laughed, happily wrong.“Best I’ve had in a long time,” he stroked the back of a finger along her collarbone, enjoying the way she shivered. Loving those little things made him a sap, he supposed, but he was too old to care. His lady was an odd (perfect) mixture. The synth didn’t bother hiding his smile, “You're something else, you know that?” 

Her smile said she did. Her smile said she didn’t care and he supposed that was alright too. Hell, if anything, he loved her better for it.


End file.
